


A Champion's Choice

by FestivalGrey



Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures, Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Bestiality, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Impregnation, Incest, Kissing, Knotting, Love Confessions, Making Love, Making Out, Mother-Son Relationship, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Parent/Child Incest, Penis In Vagina Sex, Pokephilia, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Present Tense, Talking Pokemon, Vaginal Sex, the trainer is the samurott's mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestivalGrey/pseuds/FestivalGrey
Summary: Written for someone who wishes to remain anonymous! The characters within are their OCs. Check the tags thoroughly before diving in, please!Her ace pokemon is one she carried and bore herself, and now she’s terrified to see him hurt. But as she helps him through his recovery, he makes a surprising confession... one she’ll have to decide to act on.
Relationships: Daikenki | Samurott/Original Character(s), Samurott/Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	A Champion's Choice

The hum of the lights overhead is like a high whine, always biting at me. It digs into me, feeding into my sense of worry and unease, never letting me breathe a moment’s rest.

It was supposed to be a completely normal Championship match—safe and sanctioned, with no threat of danger. But even though pokemon battling was safer now than it had ever been, accidents still happened from time to time, and this time my ace, a powerful Samurott, was left broken and wounded on the battlefield.

The opponent, to her credit, had immediately surrendered, watching with obvious worry as attendants had shepherded Umi off the arena floor. And now all I had to do was wait—wait for them to tell me his state.

The arena had a room specifically for attending mid-battle injuries. I’d insisted on it the moment I’d been instated. And now, more than ever, I found myself grateful for it.

After what seems like eons, the nurse steps quietly from the room where they were tending to my poor Umi. She motions me over with a small wave. “Madame Champion,” she says with her voice low, “it looks like your pokemon is going to pull through.”

Before I knew it, I’d raised my hand to my chest, breathing a sigh of relief. If I lost him… if I lost my Umi… I didn’t know what I would do!

“Pokemon are generally resilient,” the nurse was saying, “but your ace is… I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s pulling through insanely quickly. But even though he’s out of the woods, he’s likely to be delirious and vulnerable for a good day or two. I’d recommend avoid putting him in his poke ball or moving him from the room for a good bit.” I raise up on the balls of my feet to peer over her through the crack in the door. In the room beyond, I can see Umi reclining on the bed within. He didn’t seem to be hooked up to any medical devices—thank heavens that they hadn’t found it necessary.

“Understood,” I tell her. “I’ll watch him and summon medical attendants if he looks like he needs help.”

The nurse nods and I whisper past her. The room is being kept dim, and Umi’s azure fur is like a cold ocean in the dark. As I hear the door slowly click shut behind me, I am finally able to break down. I rush, tears budding up in my eyes, to the side of his bed, emotion strumming through me.

“Please,” I whisper. “Please. My son… my son…”

It was widely known in the region that I had raised Umi from his birth. But less widely known was the fact that I was, in fact, his mother. A certain… _incident_ during the same journey that propelled me to the Championship left me carrying, and I dutifully birthed the pokemon and raised him.

The resulting Oshawott quickly grew in power, changing shape first to a Dewott and then a Samurott. He took to battle like a natural, securing a well-deserved spot on my team as my ace. Though I’ve found it prudent to hide the information from our region, he knows I’m his mother, and that I’m proud of him—that I love him.

And now he might be hurt because of me.

I quickly sweep my gaze over his body. There’s no obvious injuries; the nurse was correct in that Umi has always healed extremely quickly, even by pokemon standards. In fact, he’ll likely be right as rain in a few days, perhaps even twenty-four hours.

But I look at my son and all I see is a strong, proud young pokemon in pain. I gently caress my hand to his furred face and he moans. “Mom…” he mutters. “M—mom…”

“I’m here,” I say, but he doesn’t respond, descending back down into incoherence once more. I suppose I should have suspected it. He’s delirious.

I sit by the medical room’s bed for a few hours, softly stroking his fur and singing to him, hoping that he recovers well. Umi drifts in and out of consciousness, never keeping attention for long. He keeps muttering my name, and I’m not sure if he knows I’m here or if he’s just crying out for me in dreams.

If it’s the latter, my heart goes out for him. I’m here, but he doesn’t know it…

The hours climb into evening and I can feel my eyelids grow heavy. Maybe it’s just the fact that I’ve been alone and anxious with my son for long, but I feel a little disoriented, like I can’t think clearly. Weariness can be as exerting as any physical labor. The momentousness of what happened to Umi, the reality of how desperate I am for him to pull through this, winnow their way through my thoughts.

Drowsiness threatens to set on me, and almost mechanically I lean back, resting my torso against his softly heaving bulk. His fur is silky against my neck, and I unconsciously match my breaths so that they are running in tempo with his own.

Without realizing it, I begin to nod off…

I can’t say how long I sleep through the night with my back against my son’s fur. I can tell you what it’s like when I wake, though.

My son has pulled me close to him, one arm wrapped close around me like I’m some sort of teddy bear. We’ve ended up curled together almost like as if he’s the big spoon and I’m the little one.

And such an intimate image was given extra weight, given _what_ woke me up. An unfamiliar hardness pressed against my lower back.

I’m not exactly a moron, so I know what exactly that was. I am quickly surprised and then mortified. I try to break away softly, so I don’t have my own son’s cock pressed against my back, but to my surprise Umi pulls me back to him, holding me tight and nuzzling against my shoulder.

“Mom…” he half-mutters, half-moans. His voice… he’s sleepy. No, not just sleepy—still delirious. I resign myself to the discomfort. I don’t want to upset my delirious offspring any more than I already had.

I lie like that for a few minutes more, my back pressed against his stomach, trying to ignore his persistent cock. He wasn’t doing anything—no moving motion, no rutting, thank all the gods and spirits. But it was still hard not to remember that this cock pressed against my back belonged to a pokemon which I had nurtured in my own womb, whose little mouth had tugged milk from my breasts.

Umi’s cock is still pressed against me and I suddenly have a strange image: what would it feel like, in me? The thought comes and goes fast, like a petal in the breeze, and I’m shocked and a little embarrassed that I even pondered it. I’m like most other women—most other _people—_ of course: I have sexual urges, impish thoughts, at inopportune times. I convince myself this is another one of them and push it out of my mind.

Still held against my child’s looming, comforting warmth, I drift into a half-sleep of my own, able to gradually put myself into a drowsy state despite the insistence in my back.

What rouses me is when Umi starts muttering again. “Mom,” he whispers, his voice stuttery and jerky, which leaves me certain he’s not talking to the me that’s there. It’s a dream on his part, a conversation with an image of me. “I wish I could tell you how I feel…”

I lie there in silence, not daring to speak lest I wake him, and he presses on. “Ever since I matured and evolved, you’re the only female I could ever look at… no pokemon, not even other humans. Just you.”

My breath hitches. Is my son… is he… _confessing?_

“Nothing will ever happen,” he mutters in his delirious dream-state, and his voice takes on a mournful quality. “I know that. You’re my mom, and you’d say no, and I would ruin our relationship even just by asking. I just… I just wish…”

He hugs me closer, snuggling into my shoulder. “I just wish you could say yes,” he mutters, and then drifts back into slumber.

I’m left shocked in the warm darkness of the medical room. The bed is soft under me, and my son’s fur is comforting at my back.

Umi is… _attracted_ to me?

I’m not so prudish as to think that human and pokemon don’t have relations, or even children together; after all, isn’t Umi himself proof enough of that? But his conception was unique in a number of ways, and I’d never really considered sleeping with a pokemon before, let alone my own child.

Society warned me that I should be repulsed by what my son said, that I should have inhibitions upon inhibitions. But perhaps it’s the cloying solitude and warmness of the room; whatever the reason, I find myself… pondering.

He’s strong, stalwart, loyal, a fierce battler, one of the best pokemon on my team. And though I raised him from his infancy, he is now an adult, if still a young one; mature and capable of making his own decisions.

And he’s attracted to me.

Am I… considering this? The realization sets on me with surprise—but the expected hesitancy never materializes. I _am_ considering it.

Like I said before, I have urges like anyone else. But whatever the reason, I’ve not typically acted on them, mostly being content to devote myself to the task at hand: first my journey, then the demanding challenges of the Championship. Umi’s conception was anomalous, and even then, it’s not like the father stuck around.

But a relationship with Umi wouldn’t get in the way of my duties. He’s on my team, he’s already loyal, he would stick around, and we already have an intense emotional connection.

So what, exactly, was the issue?

The more I ponder it, the more I honestly, thoughtfully consider it. Without the inhibitions that normally would have frowned on such a union, it was surprisingly appealing.

At one point, Umi shifts behind me, murmuring, and I feel his cock rub against my lower back, bringing to mind something _else._ Visions of his cock fill my mind again, and this time, I find myself openly considering what it would be like to have such a spire inside of me, spreading me open, tickling my innermost pleasures and desires.

Who was I kidding? I wasn’t considering. I was _fantasizing._

With that in my head, I drift in and out of sleep, my mind awash with potentials and considerations and _what-ifs._ At times, Umi shifts behind me or holds me tighter, sometimes murmuring more of those delirious words of his. At one point he moaned out, “Mom… I want it so bad, I _need_ you… I wish you knew… I wish I could tell you how bad I hunger for you…”

Is it wrong that my grown son’s mournful plea set my heart out? That I felt for him?

I can’t say how many hours I spent huddled next to him, listening to his plaintive moans and entreaties, feeling his cock pressing against my back. When I finally fall into sleep, it was to dream of my arms wrapped around his shoulders, my lips meeting his muzzle for a soft kiss… and then the kiss turned to _more,_ and in the dream it was nothing but purest delight.

When I wake, Umi is off the bed, standing in the room. His back is to me. From the way he holds himself, from his healthy bearing, I can tell that he has fully recovered from the beatdown during the Championship match.

My son really was something.

When he hears me stirring, Umi turns, and I read emotion on his face: distress and embarrassment. At that moment, I know—he remembered what he had confessed in the night.

“Mom,” he says, his voice desperate and throaty, “I… I’m so, so sorry.” He swallows. “I know that what I feel for you is wrong, and I would never… I would never! Act on it! So I…”

He breaks off with a grunt, burying his head in his paw. I can see tears beginning to bead at the corner of his eyes.

My poor boy…

Wordlessly, I rise from the bed and walk over to the door, locking it tight. I am more grateful than ever that I had insisted that the medical room near the Championship arena not include any cameras. At the time, I was thinking of the emotional privacy of challengers, how wrong it would have been for some security or medical officer to see their distress as they fretted over whether a pokemon would make it. Now, that privacy would be put to use for different things.

Umi doesn’t seem to realize what I’m doing. “Can we just,” he was saying, “m-move on from last night? I swear, I didn’t…” He breaks off, looking ashamed. I know him too well: he was going to say that he _didn’t mean it,_ but of course he did. His attraction to me isn’t in question anymore. All that matters is his shame, and my response.

I step closer, looking up at him. For a pokemon who was once an Oshawott small enough to shelter in my womb, he’s big now, just about equivalent to my size. I move even closer, close enough to touch.

“Please, mom,” he says, “please don’t hate me, I… never would have acted on it, I was just c-content to—”

He breaks off, astonished, because I reach up, cup his chin, and then raise my mouth to his, shutting him up with a kiss. The kiss isn’t that intimate, all things considered; but I hold it, pushing my lips to his muzzle, holding him firm. I can feel his breath hitch in surprise, then I sense his astonishment relax into relief as he relaxes into it.

When we finally break, a sensuous thrill is spreading from my lips, making my whole body tingle with anticipation. I _liked_ kissing him. My body wants more.

Umi is staring at me open-eyed. “M-mom?” he asks, his voice astonished—and, perhaps, laced with a sense of tangible hope. I can read the emotions in him: does he dare to think that I might, that I might actually…?

Almost impulsively, without thinking about it too hard, I realize that I want more of that good feeling. I want to feel good with my son. “It’s okay, Umi,” I whisper.

He gasps, holds there for a moment—and then he surges against me. This time it’s _him_ kissing _me,_ and the act is much more passionate, more intimate than anything mother and son have done to each other. His tongue pushes into my mouth and I let it in willingly, feeling my son trace my teeth and probe at my own tongue with a light touch that sets my nerves dancing. He moans as we kiss, and before I know it, he’s maneuvered us back onto the bed. We hold each other tight, making out with each other for a few minutes.

In the back of my head, I’m astonished at what I’m doing. I’m kissing, _passionately_ kissing, a pokemon. And not just any pokemon. My son.

I’m the Champion, and I’m making out with my own son, who’s a pokemon. The reality of it astonishes me. But despite the astonishment, I’m okay with it.

I break from the kiss after a few minutes and Umi looks upset—but his distress melts away as I reach down and, with a trembling touch, grab the hem of my top. I pull it off of me, leaving myself exposed in my bra, and I quickly shake off my pants, leaving my clean white panties on display.

Then, clad in nothing but my underwear, I dive back in.

This time my hands reach down into Umi’s fur, fingers trailing through it and feeling the shivers on his skin at my touch. After a few breaths, his paws reach almost tentatively against my skin, as if he’s frightened. He tenderly, almost hesitantly caresses my hips and I moan into him, and that’s all the approval he needs. His paws course across my bare flesh, sending electric thrills dancing through me to set my brain afire. I feel him caress my lower back, stroke my sides, strum his paws down the inside of my thighs, all in perfect concert with the attentions I’m providing to him as well, and the sensation is nothing but pure bliss and sexual delight.

His paws slide under my bra to cup and knead at my breasts, and my moans grow louder. I can’t help but thinking that my bosom, which had been average when I was younger, had grown during my pregnancy with Umi, and that I had never really shed the excess size.

The sensation of Umi touching my breasts is too much, and I steal my hands away from his fur for a moment to undo my bra’s clasp. Once I throw it aside, Umi has unfettered access to my chest. He breaks away from our kiss, holding his gaze with me for a moment before diving down to lick gently at one of my nipples. I hiss in pleasure—my arousal had already made my nipples stand out, and his attention is making them even more erect.

Returning my hands to his body, I slowly drift down to find his cock, which is firm and tall amidst his fur. Like all Samurott, his underbelly is a softer sky blue compared to the deep sapphire color of the rest of his coat, and the rich pink-red of his penis, like a vivid berry, stands out against it.

His cock is firm as I grasp it, and I am rewarded with a gasp that trills into a low moan. Ah, my son… he has blossomed into quite the young adult in the intervening years. I squeeze it and am rewarded with a pulse; I stroke it and his voice trills in a low, appreciative murr.

Then, wanting to show him how much I love him, I bend my head down and take the tip in my mouth.

His response is immediate, his voice squeezing out of him in a high, surprised gasp. I savor the taste of Samurott cock for a few moments—salty like the sea, sharp but not unpleasant—before swirling the tip in my mouth and teasing it with my tongue.

It was, in fact, my first-ever attempt at oral, so I can only assume it was sloppy and imperfect. But if Umi’s reaction is any indication, that didn’t make it any less satisfying. I bob my head down, inexpertly taking it in my mouth. I’m unpracticed and can only manage about half of it before gagging, but Umi reaches his paw down and strokes my hair. “It’s alright, mom,” he tells me. “Don’t push yourself. It feels really, really good.”

Murmuring in appreciation, I bob my head back and forth, giving him the best head I can manage as he leans back, sighing with blissful relief. After a bit of this, I feel Umi’s paws trail back along my body. I shudder as they caress the slope of my lower back, squirm at the delightful thrill of their touch on my hips—and then he hooks one of his claws under the hem of my panties.

He stops, then, his breaths heavy, and when I glance up from his cock I can see him staring down at me, wordlessly waiting my go-ahead before proceeding any further. I can’t vocalize my approval, but I nod as best I can, and he gets the message.

My own son peels my panties off of me, exposing my cunt to fresh air. I’m thoroughly aroused, my pussy flushed and moist, the scent permeating the air. Cupping his hands around my head, Umi slowly eases me off his cock. It’s glistening with my saliva and what I recognize as pre. I wonder how much of it I swallowed.

“Mom…” he says, his voice breathy. He’s staring longingly at my flushed pussy. “I…”

He doesn’t finish his thoughts. He doesn’t have to. I know what he wants.

This entire excursion has been really, really good. It’s brought me pleasure that I never knew I wanted. But actually letting my son fuck me? That would take things to the next step. There’d be no going back from that. Even now, if we were to call it off, I think that we could settle back into the way things were, writing this off as an anomaly, a day’s dalliance. An experiment. But actually letting Umi _inside_ me? That would change things entirely.

I’m the Champion. I’ve faced a lot of important, difficult decisions in my day, more than most people know. But I am struck with the realization that this choice may just define my life from here on out.

Umi is patiently waiting, not making a move. He’s quiet, letting me think and consider this. I know my boy. I know that he is a good soul who would immediately quit this the moment I voiced even a mite of hesitation.

And _that_ , more than anything, is what convinces me to go on. The fact that Umi is so trustworthy, so deferential, so respectful… and it’s not just because I’m his mother. He’s like that in general.

He’s good. A good, kind soul. And if I would ever give myself to anyone, it would be to someone like him.

“Move,” I whisper, and he follows my instructions, maneuvering himself into a half-sitting, half-reclining position on the medical bed. I position myself on top of him, maneuvering until my slick pussy is just tickled by the tip of his cock.

Biting my lip, I glance down and meet Umi’s eyes. My son’s gaze is patient, understanding, hopeful—trusting. There has been so much stress and difficulty in my life. Is it so bad that now, _now_ , after everything, I finally decide to seize the day and make myself happy with someone who is mature and consenting, and damn what society thinks?

 _Yes,_ I realize, _I do want this after all._

I sink down onto his cock, and my entire world changes.

I was expecting pleasure, mixed with a little bit of pain. What I got was pure ecstasy, a symphony of sheer wonderment as my body sang around him, filling me with raw primal _rightness._ The sensation is overwhelming; I collapse against him, moaning from bliss, wriggling my hips to work further down his cock until he’s nearly hilted in me.

We sit like that, me half-collapsed, his cock pulsing in me, pleasure crashing through me like a wave upon rocks, and then, in voice throaty with arousal, I whisper:

“Fuck me, Umi.”

His breath hitches, he raises his paws to my shoulders to hold me tight to him, and then—

And then my own son takes me.

His cock slides out of me and I whine, and it thunders back in and I _keen,_ and Umi holds me close, his voice hoarse, and he manages to squeeze out, “I love you, mom,” and then he fucks me like there’s no tomorrow.

In, out, back and forth, his rhythm is exactly what I would have expected of him: unpracticed but raw, his inexperience tempered by the passionate fire of youth. Every push sends his cock steaming through, and his pace quickly becomes a drumbeat of pleasure rocketing through my body, every thrust of his spire into me leaving me shuddering with bliss so hot, so fierce, that it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

There’s barely even the slightest bite of pain. This is pure pleasure.

He keeps up his vigorous tempo, never ceasing, and I can feel myself fluttering and clenching around him, the sensation making his hardness stand out even more and leaving me sobbing from pure pleasure. I bury myself in his belly fur, knotting it in my hands, and begin layering aimless kisses on his fur and his skin, tears in my eyes. “Fuck, I, _f-fuck_ , ohhhhhhhh, Umi, I l-love you so much…” I moan as one particularly energetic thrust leaves my vision swirling from overstimulated delight as I orgasm. I can’t _believe_ how good this feels. I can’t stand the purity of his love and attentions.

I’m the Champion, and my son’s made me cum.

He keeps it up, fucking me _through_ my orgasm, the sensation sublime as his rod continues stimulating my fluttering pussy and my fruitlessly clenching walls, his voice unable to do little more than grunt and gasp until I hear it hitch. “M-mom,” he manages to gasp out, “I… I’m so c-close…”

I want to tell him to let it all go, to flood me with his cum, to glory in bliss, but I’m a shaking post-orgasmic mess reeling from the stimulation of being fucked through my climax, and all I can do is moan my assent, my voice muffled by his fur.

He clutches me tighter, his claws digging lightly into my skin, and he hilts himself fully in my pussy, the tip of his cock kissing the entrance to my womb, and then my voice careens as his _knot_ swells up in me, tying us together, spreading me so, so wide apart, and then he floods me with his cum, the sensation warm and flush and filling.

Human and pokemon—trainer and trained—mother and son, our voices fill the room in unison as he cums inside of me, his knot plugging me up and preventing any from leaking out, and it’s such an incredible feeling.

In the aftermath, we’re left plugged up; we will be for a little while, I know. I sink against him, comforted by his closeness, as he holds me tight.

“Mom,” Umi whispers to me, “thank you.”

I murr in response.

“I love you.”

I raise my head and lock eyes with him, smiling. “I love you too, Umi,” I say, and then rest back, coasting down from my orgasmic high as I feel his knot still spreading me open.

And though neither of us knows it at the time, even as we speak his seed inside of me is taking hold, finding the egg sitting in my womb and claiming it. And by the time we uncouple, I am blissfully ignorant of the fact that my own son has made me a mother once more.

\---

It took a little while for us to find out. After that first day, we settled into our new relationship. We were already used to keeping the fact that he was my son a secret; it wasn’t too hard to keep the fact that we were lovers now on the downlow as well. We kept our behavior in public and around those who knew us unchanged, with any increase in affection written off due to our closeness as Champion and ace. I don’t think the rest of my team was fooled, but I wasn’t too worried about them. Pokemon don’t have the same hangups that humans do, and I know that one of them is already intimately aware about human/pokemon relations.

The day when I discover I’m pregnant starts out like any other. I’d been feeling a bit different these past few weeks; queasy in the mornings sometimes. Remembering what it had felt like when I’d been carrying Umi, I had gotten tested. Now I’m staring at the results with open eyes.

That night, when Umi walks into my room (I have a lush, four-poster bed befitting the Champion of a great region) I inform him that I have something to tell him. When I finish, he stares at my belly with wonder. It’s still flat, but both of us know that it will swell dutifully in coming weeks and months.

“Mew above, mom,” he says, “I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” I admit. “I never thought I’d have to worry about a pregnancy again.” I throw my arms over his shoulders to hold him tight. “I was shocked at first,” I tell him, “but I’ve been thinking it over and… I’m okay with this. I’m okay with being a mother again, with bearing your children.”

“Mom…”

I push away from Umi, peeling my clothes off, and before long I’m on my hands and knees, gasping as my own son ruts me from behind. His pace is picking up, faster and faster. He seems particularly energetic today; the knowledge that he put a baby in me is doubtless feeding his sense of confidence. It’s a strange dance the two of us perform when we have sex. I’m indisputably the one in charge in our relationship, but in bed I usually let him take the lead. To say that he doms me, though, is inaccurate, since even a moment’s word brings him to heel.

Tonight, I let him cut loose.

“That’s right,” I pant as I feel his cock surge into me. “That’s right, that’s right. You made me a mommy again.”

“I know,” he grunts surging into me. “I’m so… so happy…”

“I’m so happy to have your baby in me,” I pant. I mean every word I say. It’s hard to think with the sheer level of bliss my son is giving me. “I’m so, so happy.”

I can feel it—his cock, his knot, his seed. Spent, he brings his mouth near my ear. “I’m happy too.”

\---

By the time I’m only a few weeks out, my belly is big and swollen, the baby Oshawott inside tumbling over itself in my womb, and it’s difficult to move. I’ve taken a brief leave of absence from my Championship duties to focus on my coming birth.

Of course, when I feel a spike in arousal, my dutiful lover—my dutiful _son_ —is going to do more than just let me sit there and suffer through it. But given how big I am, and how close, we’re worried that his bulk might unnecessarily put me in danger.

Thankfully, there are other solutions.

The tip of his tongue teases against my clit, and I tense, moaning. One of my hands is supporting my belly; the other is idly running back and forth over it in a stimulating fashion.

Umi is lapping gently at my cunt, his muzzle buried between my legs, and although my womb is so swollen that I cannot even see him beyond my own gravidity, I take comfort that he is there and glory in his touch and attentions.

His tongue pushes into me, hotly lapping at my insides, teasing my walls, and my voice is tremulous as I breathe out his name raggedly. “Umi…” I whisper, only to gasp as I feel our baby suddenly kick against me. The gasps brings him to a halt for a moment before he continues eating me out.

I recline back, blushing and doe-eyed, exulting in my son’s attentions, feeling another son toss and turn inside of me.

\---

On the day when I bring our little one into the world, it all goes smoothly. It’s an easy delivery, and short too, and before long there’s a small Oshawott with his mouth on my teat, sucking nourishment from me.

I smile down at my newest little one with half-lidded eyes and a wan smile. My hair, normally done up, is loose and spraying over my neck and shoulders now.

“You know,” I say, “it wasn’t so long ago that it was _you_ down there.”

“Now I’m up here,” he says. I don’t have to look at him to know that his eyes are fixed on our child. “Mom… I can’t believe it. I feel so fortunate…”

“You and me both.” I lean back against him, sighing with bliss. This isn’t how I expected my life to go, happily and willingly bearing my own son’s children, buoyant with the thought of him knocking me up again (because both of us know that we’re going to have more than one.) But it’s how it is.

And despite how unforeseen it was, I wouldn’t change it for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, check me out on twitter (https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey), FurAffinity (https://www.furaffinity.net/user/festivalgrey/), or tumblr (festival-grey.tumblr.com/).


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